


A Bridge to Tomorrow

by scifishipper



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Family, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Parent-Child Relationship, Social Justice, Veterans, psychiatry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifishipper/pseuds/scifishipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At fifteen, Jim Kirk turned his back on Starfleet and vowed never to return. Many years later, a chance encounter and a new love bring him back to face the losses he's tried so hard to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bridge to Tomorrow

Jim Kirk pulled his black knit hat down around his ears and ducked into the wind whipping down Third Avenue. He glanced down the side streets as he walked and then turned the corner on to Baltic. Along the chain link fence between the two auto shops, Jim spotted the bright colors of a blanket that weren’t there the night before. Walking closer, he scanned the sidewalks for other huddled figures. He approached cautiously.

“Hey, buddy,” Jim said, kneeling next to the thin man lying under a red and orange blanket. “You okay?” Jim didn’t reach out to touch him. After his five years working with the homeless, he knew better, but he did clear his throat and speak louder. “Listen. It’s freezing out here and it’s gonna get colder. You wanna come in and get some food?” The figure stirred and mumbled something Jim couldn’t understand. A different language maybe. 

“Hmm. Okay. I’m not sure what you’re saying, but if you speak Standard, my name is Jim. I’m going to sit next to you, okay?” Jim flipped an empty plastic crate next to the guy’s feet and sat against the fence. Across the street, he saw McCoy raising a hand to him in question. Jim waved him off. It was nearly one in the morning, but he couldn’t really leave the guy to freeze to death. Jim hunched his face down into his scarf. 

Gently, Jim nudged his booted foot against the bottom of the guy’s black shoes. “How you doin’ under there? Say something, cause otherwise I’m just gonna sit here all night and bug you.” Jim nudged him again and the guy finally moved under the blankets. 

“What time iz it?” the voice asked and Jim blinked. He expected a “fuck off” instead. 

“It’s late and it’s cold. There’s a shelter about nine blocks from here and van that’ll take you there. Give you something to eat.” The gray van in question was around the corner on Atlantic, near a twenty-four hour bodega.

“Zey will take ze schematics,” the voice said, muffled through blankets.

“They will what? Who will?” Jim didn’t even blink at the man’s statement. He’d been working with the mentally ill homeless long enough that nothing much phased him anymore.

“Ze Romulans. Zey do not want Starfleet to have zem.” A curly head popped out from the blankets and glanced around, bright blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. Jim was surprised to see that the man was really no more than a teenager with dark circles and gaunt cheeks. 

Jim chuckled. “Romulans don’t come to Brooklyn, buddy. And if they do, they’re not allowed in the shelter. C’mon, I’ll make sure you’re okay. We can lock up the…what did you call them?”

“Ze schematics for ze cloaking device,” the teen said and sat up, the fence barely sagging with his weight.

“Ah, okay. Well, we can lock them up, if you want. I have an office and I’ll make sure they’re safe.” Jim stared at the teen until he looked back, seeming to weigh his options. 

“You are sure?” His voice shook as he spoke. The icy wind flapped the edges of the blankets and Jim shivered.

“I am sure. C’mon. It’s gonna start snowing soon.” Jim had been feeling the humidity rise. It was supposed to be a heavy wet mess by morning.

“Will I be able to leave if ze Romulans find me? It is not prison?” 

“Sure, you can leave. Just don’t want you to freeze to death. What’s your name?”

“I am called Pasha,” he said quietly and shifted the blankets around his shoulders. With effort, he stood, holding onto the chain link fence with thin, dirty fingers.

“Good to meet you, Pasha. Come on. The van’s around the corner.”

“Thank you…Jim,” he said, smiling faintly to reveal surprisingly straight white teeth. 

“You’re welcome. You good?” Jim asked, watching Pasha stagger a little as he stepped over the pile of papers and boxes he was using to buffer the wind around him.

“Yes,” he answered and Jim walked slowly, catching McCoy’s eyes. Pasha was the last one of the night and he could finally get back inside.

~*~

McCoy parked the van in front of the Third Avenue Mission, and Jim hopped out. Pasha had been quiet for the trip, but Jim saw his eyes darting around, paranoid and suspicious. He was surprised that he’d gotten him into the van at all. The paranoid ones usually fought back the most.

“Come on,” Jim motioned, “We’ll get you settled.” 

Pasha hesitated as he exited the van, glancing at the plain four-story building with a small sign next to a black metal door. “Yeah, it’s not much to look at, kid,” McCoy said to Pasha, taking the four steps up in two strides. He unlocked the door and swung it open. “But it’s warm.” 

Jim and Doctor Leonard McCoy had been working at the Mission since Jim bought the building five years back. His father, George Kirk, a Starfleet officer had died somewhere in deep space, leaving Jim a sizeable pension that he didn’t really need. Military life hadn’t exactly worked out for him, but here he was ten years later, living a pretty good life on the East Coast. Helping people here on Earth was a hell of a lot better than living under the thumb of Starfleet. 

McCoy glanced at Jim with a stifled yawn as he held open the door and waited for Pasha to move inside. The teen pulled the orange and red blanket up around his ears and peered over the edge. Third Avenue was pretty empty at one a.m. on a Monday night, and Pasha finally climbed out of the van and took the steps carefully into the building. 

Jim followed him and McCoy into the building and pulled off his gloves and hat, shoving them into the pockets of his oversized black coat. “This way, Pasha. You gotta use the bathroom or anything? It’s private.” 

When the teen nodded, Jim led him to the bathroom and held out his hand. “I’ll hold your blanket. That okay?” 

Pasha’s thin eyebrows shot up and he tightened his grip on the blanket. 

“All right. You keep it.” Jim held up his hands and watched the teen go inside and close the door.

“What’s up with him, you think?” McCoy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Got some mental illness, but hasn’t been out too long. Shoes seem new, doesn’t smell that bad. Pretty paranoid, though. We should give Spock a call, see if he can come in tomorrow morning and check him out.”

“Well, feel free,” McCoy said and frowned. He detested Doctor S’chn T’gai Spock for reasons that Jim didn’t quite understand.

“Come on, Bones. You’re such a pain my ass. He’s a good doctor.” Jim had known Spock only for a few months, but the guy was brilliant. And pretty damn hot, too.

“How can you tell? Guy never smiles.”

“Bones, he’s Vulcan. You’d think you never left Earth from the way you act.”

“Well, I’m back on Earth for a reason. You ever think of that?” McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. After McCoy’s divorce, he’d done a stint with Starfleet but had hated it. Good thing for Jim that he’d decided to drown his sorrows in one of Jim’s favorite bars. Jim had enlisted him shortly after he’d signed the deed on the building.

“You’re ridiculous. And anyway, Spock’s doing us a favor coming down here. You know the guy’s like a famous neurologist and psychiatrist, right?”

“Blah, blah, blah. Why don’t you just ask him out and be done with it. ‘Spock said this. Spock published that.’ Jesus, kid, you’re like his one-man fan club.” McCoy rolled his eyes and Jim blushed. Ever since he’d met Spock at a community mental health roundtable at Columbia, he’d been smitten. 

“Fuck off, would ya. He’s not into me, okay. I don’t think he rolls that way.” 

“Whatever, Jim. You’ll never know ‘til you try. Chicken shit. I’m going to bed.” With that, McCoy whipped off his scarf and brushed past Jim to take the stairs up to his apartment on the third floor. 

“You’re an asshole,” Jim mumbled as he pulled off his own scarf and coat and waited for the kid to come out of the bathroom.

After a few minutes more, Jim knocked. “Hey, Pasha. You okay in there?” He didn’t hear anything and knocked louder. A second later he jumped back when the door swung open.

“Whoa, sorry. You okay?” Jim was surprised at the young man's fierce expression.

“Where is ze other man?” Pasha glanced around, eyes too big for his face.

“McCoy? Upstairs. We live here, work full-time helping people out. You wanna get something to eat?”

His explanation seemed to do the trick and Pasha relaxed. “Zat would be agreeable,” he said, pulling his blanket back around himself.

“All right. Let’s get you set up then.” Jim smiled and led the way.

~*~

Jim woke the next morning to shouting and commotion outside his office.

“Romulans!” he heard Pasha scream, followed by running footsteps. “Jim! Jim!” 

“Fuck!” Jim jerked himself off the couch in his office and yanked open the door to see Pasha trying to disappear into the wall at the end of the hallway. Spock was a few feet away, his brows slightly pinched.

“Pasha, no. That’s not a Romulan.” Jim gave Spock an awkward smile and brushed past him to stand in front of the teen, blocking his view of the doctor.

“Pasha, listen. That’s Doctor Spock. He’s Vulcan… NOT Romulan. There are no Romulans on Earth, Pasha. I promise you.” 

Pasha tried to lean around Jim to stare at the Vulcan again, but Jim blocked his view. “Hey, listen. Take a couple of breaths, okay? We’ll ask the doctor to go away for a minute so we can talk.”

Jim glanced over his shoulder and gave Spock a pointed look. The doctor’s eyebrows seemed to smooth out and he nodded and went into Jim’s office.

“You know the difference between Vulcans and Romulans? Vulcans are peaceful, been in the Federation for a couple of years, right? Romulans are definitely not — remember the Neutral Zone? The failed peace talks? Look, I know you’re scared, but Doctor Spock is a good guy…well, man…uh, Vulcan. He’s helped a lot of guys figure out what’s wrong. Help them get things back on track.” It was true that Doctor Spock was a bit of an oddity. There weren’t that many Vulcans on Earth, so he understood why Pasha was a little spooked.

Pasha stared at Jim, his pale skin contrasting sharply with the still-dark circles under his eyes. “I don’t want to talk to ze Wulcan.” He shook his head and glanced past Jim again.

“Okay, that’s cool. But look, how about some breakfast? You hungry?” Jim reached out and touched Pasha’s arm where it was crossed over his chest. 

The teen nodded. “Zat…zat would be good.” 

“All right. C’mon.” Jim led him down the hall, pulling his office door closed as they walked by. 

A few minutes later, Jim had Pasha settled and calm and tapped gently on his office door. 

“Enter,” he heard from Spock inside.

Jim pushed the door open slowly. “Hey, sorry about that. Shoulda warned you. I didn’t think you’d be here so early.” Jim ran a hand through his messy hair and shoved his hand into his jeans pocket. 

“It was logical to come here before my meeting at the university,” Spock said smoothly, standing completely still in the center of Jim’s cluttered office.

“Oh, crap, right. Do you want to sit down?” Jim rushed past Spock and cleared the blanket and pillow off of the couch. “Sorry. I fell asleep down here last night. Didn’t get Pasha settled until almost three.”

“I do not need to sit, Mr. Kirk,” Spock said factually and Jim felt like an idiot.

“Right, sorry. You’re a busy guy. Like I said, I don’t think Pasha’s going to want to talk to you. He thinks the Romulans are after some secret plans or something. I don’t know what he’s talking about. Seems pretty scared, though.” He threw the blanket and pillow into the corner and went back to stand by the door.

“Do you not reside in the building, Mr. Kirk? It was my understanding that you have apartment on an upper floor.” Spock gave him a slightly quizzical expression.

“Uh, yeah. I do.” Jim glanced down at himself, at his wrinkled shirt, jeans he’d been wearing for two days, bare feet. “Sorry, I…I mean. I get too tired to go up all those stairs.” Jim resisted the impulse to fix himself. He felt like a loser next to Spock who was wearing an impeccable navy suit and crisp white shirt that set off his dark hair and eyes.

“So, Doctor McCoy does not mind if you sleep in your office?” Spock raised an eyebrow and Jim blinked.

“What? No. Why would he? I mean…” Jim brushed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Oh, shit. Bones and me? No. No, we don’t…we’re not. I mean, he’s a great guy and all, but he’s pretty straight.” Jim felt his face heat as he rambled. “I mean, no. We don’t live together.” Jim stared at the tips of Spock’s perfect black shoes.

“My mistake. I apologize for the error.” Spock’s voice was low and Jim glanced up at him.

“No, it’s cool. I mean, yeah, we’re together a lot.” Jim shrugged and tried to laugh, but it felt thin and forced. 

“Very well, Mr. Kirk,” Spock said, shifting his briefcase from one hand to the other. “Do you have any other patients you would like me to interview?” 

“Uh, no. Sorry to drag you down here.” Jim stepped backwards and out of the way of the door he realized he’d been blocking.

“It was no inconvenience, Mr. Kirk.” Spock said. “I will take my leave of you, then.” 

“Okay. Thanks for coming down. I mean, I’ll call you if anything changes.” 

“That would be appropriate, Mr. Kirk.” Spock paused for a moment, looking like he was going to say something else, then blinked and moved past Jim to go into the hall. A moment later, he heard the front door open and close.

~*~

Once Spock left, Jim made sure Pasha and the four other residents were settled in the kitchen and then ran upstairs to his apartment to wash up and change clothes. When he came down a while later, McCoy was on the third floor landing.

“What was all the damn commotion this morning?” he asked, locking his apartment door with a key.

Jim answered, “Spock came and Pasha freaked. Thought he was a Romulan. Wouldn’t talk to him.”

McCoy walked down the two flights ahead of Jim and into the back hallway. “So, that’s why you decided to clean behind your ears.” McCoy glanced at his wet hair and clean-shaved face before they went into his small office, tucked away in the corner of the first floor overlooking the small square of concrete they used to barbecue when the weather was nice.

“I wish,” Jim said, leaning against the door picking at the paint chipping on the frame. “He let himself in and when Pasha saw him, he ran away. Woke me up from a dead sleep in my office. I’m sure my hair was sticking out everywhere. It was totally awkward.” Jim felt his ears turning red just thinking about looking like a slob in front of the gorgeous doctor.

“I’m sure he thought you were pretty, Jim. Don’t worry.” McCoy patted him on the arm and dropped into his chair and rolled away.

“You shoulda seen him, Bones. He was so fucking perfect. I totally wasted his time. I shoulda been awake to introduce them. You know, make sure Pasha was okay with him, but I didn’t even think…”

“Take it easy, kiddo. I’m sure it was fine. Did he ask you out?” McCoy asked and pulled an empty medical file out of his desk.

“No!” Jim protested. He felt defensive of the Spock’s tastes. Spock was way out of his league.

“Now, don’t get your skirts all ruffled. Why do you think he comes to a no name shelter in Gowanus, for fuck’s sake? For the view? Come on, Jim. The guy’s not blind.” McCoy, inserted a few pages into a blank folder and pressed the clasps down.

Jim stared at McCoy for a long moment, considering his words. There were a lot of shelters in the city — it really didn’t make sense that someone so brilliant would single out their little six-bed facility after just talking to Jim one time.

“He did ask about you and me,” Jim thought suddenly, the memory giving him pause.

“You and me? Like gay you and me?” McCoy asked, staring at Jim with his eyebrows high.

Jim grinned. “Yeah. Told him we were totally in love and getting married.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. See, that’s why he never asked you out. He thought you were taken. And by the way, marriage is out of the question. You’re cute, but I am a breast man. Sorry, kid.”

~*~

Jim left McCoy’s office smiling and walked into the common area where Pasha was sitting near a window staring out at the traffic on Third Avenue. The curls on the back of his head were flat and dirty and he was still wrapped in his blanket.

“Hey, Pasha,” Jim said, sitting in the chair next to him. Across the room, Mitchell and Wayne were watching the news. Two of the other guys were in the kitchen doing the breakfast clean up.

“Hello, Jim,” he said giving him a quick glance.

“How are you feeling? I know you got a scare this morning.” 

“Yes. I am sorry about zat. He scared me.” Pasha was staring down at his fingers as they flipped a small black square over and over.

“He’s Vulcan, you know that, right?”

“Yes. I understand it. But zey are quite similar, no? It was unexpected.” Pasha’s face tightened with anxiety.

“Yeah, I guess. I never thought about it.” In truth, Jim had been obsessed with Vulcans since he’d first met Spock. 

Jim watched Pasha’s long fingers flipping the square. “What you got there?” he asked.

“Zese are ze plans for ze cloaking device. Zey are very secret.”

“I’m sure. Where’d you get them?” Jim asked, glancing again at the Pasha’s face. He’d confirmed last night that he’d just turned seventeen years old.

“I created zem. I am engineer.” Jim didn’t believe a word, but at least the kid was talking.

“Really? Aren’t you kinda young?”

“Technically, I am ze youngest cadet to graduate Starfleet.” Pasha glanced at Jim who kept his face placid.

“That’s quite an accomplishment. How’d you end up in New York?” Jim relaxed back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

“I was visiting my sister in Coney Island when zey came after me. I ran.”

“How’d you end up here in Gowanus, though? Not exactly on the beaten path.”

“I ran to ze train. I got off here because I did not want to go to ze city.” 

“Why not?” Jim stretched out and put his booted foot on the window sill.

“It is not safe,” Pasha answered and put the chip back into his pocket.

“So what are you going to do now? Can’t you just call Starfleet? Have them come and get you?”

“It is not zat simple. I was supposed to report for duty on ze Enterprise, but my sister, she call me and was upset. Said some men had come to visit her, try to give her money for information about me. She is my only family and I was scared for her.” Pasha frowned and pulled his blanket tighter.

Jim peered at the young man. Something about his story rang true and he wasn’t sure quite what to do.

“Okay, Pasha. You’re safe here, though, right? I don’t think the Romulans are gonna find a kid in a homeless shelter in Brooklyn, right?”

“I hope not, Jim. You will not tell anyone will you?” Pavel sat up in his seat, looking ready to run.

“Don’t worry, Pasha. You’re safe.” Jim stood and squeezed his shoulder. “You want to get a shower or something? I am pretty sure I have some clothes in your size. What do you say?”

“I guess zat would be okay.”

~*~

“Well, I’ll be goddamned. Jim Kirk.” Admiral Christopher Pike answered the phone like Jim remembered, with amusement.

“Hi, Admiral Pike. How’re you?” Jim couldn’t help but to grin as he flopped into his desk chair. He was no Starfleet fan, but Chris Pike was his godfather and he loved the guy.

“Doin’ well, Jim. How have you been, son? It’s been a long time.”

“I’m good, Chris. Busy with the Mission. Lots to do.” Jim never quite knew what to say to Chris, how to avoid the topic of his father that inevitably came up.

“So, Jim, what can I do for you?” 

“Have a strange question for you. Just wondering if you were missing some Russian whiz kid? Like the youngest graduate of Starfleet or something?” The chair creaked as Jim slid to the edge.

The line went silent.

“Chris?” Jim asked, suddenly feeling the skin prickle on his neck.

“Jim, hold on a sec.” After a few beats, Jim heard a click on the line and a faint buzz.

“Okay. We’re on an encrypted line. Can you just repeat your question because I want to make sure I heard you right.”

“Uh, sure. I was just wondering if you guys were missing a Russian engineering genius?”

“Jim, are you talking about Pavel Chekov?” Chris’s voice was intense.

“He didn’t give me his full name. You know, they don’t usually. Said he was called Pasha. Why am I starting to get the feeling that this guy is for real?” Jim sat heavily back into his chair. 

“Yeah. That’s him. How the hell did he end up in Brooklyn?” 

“Found him on the street. Thought he was mentally ill or something…you know, going off about Romulans. Brought him in for the night because it’s freezing here.”

“Damn. We’ve been looking for him for three days. How the hell did he get there?”

“Said something about his sister who lives in Coney Island?” Jim flicked a pencil against the desk.

“All right. Can you keep him there? I’m sending someone for him.”

“Um, okay. I mean, I’ll do my best. He’s pretty antsy.” Jim glanced at the door, thinking he should go and check on him.

“Use that not inconsiderable charm, Jim. Kid likes chess, I think.”

“Got it. When will the Starfleet guy be here?” Jim asked, pushing back from his desk.

“Probably a few hours. Hold tight, okay. And thanks, Jim. You have no idea how important this is.”

“No problem, Chris. Good to talk to you.”

~*~

Jim waited for Pasha to emerge from the shower and handed him a pair of new underwear, used jeans and an old Jets t-shirt. “These should work. Let me know if they don’t. I’ll be in the common room.”

“Thank you, Jim.” Pasha’s face was scrubbed clean and he really didn’t look a day over sixteen. How could this kid be such a genius?

“No problem. Hey, you wanna play chess when you’re done? I’ll set it up.” Jim gave the kid an engaging smile.

“Zat would be good, Jim,” the teen said, looking nervous, and closed the bathroom door.

The chessboard was a permanent fixture in the common area. Seemed like lot of the men who came through their doors knew how to play at least a little. It was a good, no pressure way to get them talking.

When Pasha emerged from the shower, he came over and dropped his folded blanket and clothes onto the chair next to them.

“You want white or black?” Jim asked dropped the pawns in a row.

“I will take black,” he answered and sat across from Jim to set up the remaining pieces. 

Pasha sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled against his chin as he played. He paused between each move, and Jim could swear he could see the gears turning in that kid’s head. After ninety minutes, Pasha had beaten him twice. The second time, though, just barely. 

“I did not expect you to play so vell,” the teen said as they were setting up the third game. His face was showing a lot less strain than it had earlier.

Jim shrugged. “I like it. Been playing since I was a kid. You?”

“Ze same. In Russia, it is popular. Zat is how I was discovered to be genius. I won many tournaments and was recruited to Starfleet.”

“Cool,” Jim nodded and made his first move. He didn’t think it was a good idea to mention his own connections to Starfleet. He already knew he was going to feel bad for breaking the kid’s trust by calling Pike.

“So, tell me about Russia. Never been there.” 

Pasha became more and more animated as he talked about his homeland, grinning and seeming to attribute every great invention ever discovered to his mother country. Jim chuckled a couple of times and generally really liked the kid a lot. He could see why he’d done so well at Starfleet.

A while later, Jim finally managed to corner Pasha’s king and sat back with a wide grin. “Good game, Pasha. But now I’ve gotta make some lunch.”

~*~

Jim was stacking lunchmeat and cheese onto a tray when he heard the front door open. He wiped his hands on a towel and stepped into the hall. Doctor Spock paused and closed the door behind him.

“Oh, hi. You’re back…” Jim gave him a quizzical look and tried to smile.

“Hello, Mr. Kirk,” Spock said, glancing past Jim and down the hall. 

“I, uh, still don’t think Pasha is gonna talk to you.”

“I… Mr. Kirk, can we speak privately?” He glanced towards Jim’s office.

“Um, sure. Can you give me a sec to let the guys know lunch is ready?”

“Of course. I will wait in your office.” Spock brushed past him and Jim went back into the kitchen, and pulled out bread and condiments before calling the guys to eat. 

He returned to his office to find Spock staring at the couple of old photos he had on the wall above the bookcase. “You are affiliated with Starfleet, Mr. Kirk?” Spock turned and tilted his head slightly. His collar was more wrinkled than it had been this morning and his face looked slightly stressed.

“Uh, yeah. My parents.” Jim leaned against the doorway and put his hands into his pockets. He gazed at Spock, not quite sure what was going on.

“I see. I, too, am affiliated with Starfleet. You may already know this.”

Jim’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, no, not really. I mean, it makes sense. You’re brilliant and everything, and you’ve done a ton of amazing research. They’d be lucky to have you.” Jim clamped his mouth shut when Spock’s eyes widened. Way to sound like a stalker, Jimmy-boy.

“Starfleet has afforded me many opportunities to expand the research I began on Vulcan. I currently hold the rank of Commander, but at present, I am on sabbatical.”

“Oh. That’s cool.” Jim felt like there was more to the story, but he didn’t pry.

“Mr. Kirk. I should get to the point of my visit.”

“Jim,” he interrupted. “Please call me Jim. You don’t need to be so formal.”

“Very well…Jim.” Spock glanced at him. “As a high-ranking member of Starfleet, possibly the highest ranking member in New York City, Admiral Pike contacted me—” 

“Oh! Of course. I’m an idiot.” Jim pushed off the wall. “Pasha is still here. I kept him busy. Is he going to be okay?” Jim found himself standing quite close to Spock, whispering.

Spock stared at him for a long moment and Jim wasn’t sure what was going on. When Spock stepped back, Jim realized that he’d been in the Vulcan’s space. “Sorry. I just didn’t want Pasha to hear our conversation.” 

“Vulcan’s have superior hearing. It was not necessary.” Spock informed him.

“Right. Sorry.” Jim stumbled back against the door, wishing really that he was on the other side of it. Or maybe on the moon.

“As to Mr. Chekov. I am ordered to immediately escort him to Starfleet headquarters in San Francisco.”

“Right. That makes sense. He’s going to be safe?”

“I can assure you that I will protect Mr. Chekov from those who mean to do him harm. I will also protect the secrets he is carrying. He was a foolish young man to carry them out of Starfleet headquarters.”

“Yeah, that didn’t seem like a good idea. I guess all those brains don’t bring good judgment, do they? Teenagers are pretty impulsive.”

“He is a graduate of Starfleet Academy and is expected to adhere to the rules and regulation therein. Youth is no excuse.”

Jim’s pursed his lips at the serious tone in Spock’s voice. “I guess.”

Spock appraised him. “You do not agree?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Jim repositioned himself against the edge of his desk. “My folks were Starfleet. I grew up with every regulation and rule under the stars, and, man, I really hated it. All that shit rammed down my throat.” Jim glanced at Spock and swallowed. “Sorry. That’s probably insulting. Thing is, I never chose Starfleet. My parents chose it for me. When my mom died, I was in and out of a dozen starbases, never saw my dad. Not exactly a stellar experience for a kid.” Jim picked up a paperclip from his desk and twisted it in his fingers. “I guess hearing all that rule bull annoyed me.”

“Your father was a decorated war hero. He died saving his crew of four hundred and seventeen. He deserves honor.”

“Don’t get me wrong. He was my dad and I loved him, but we just never saw eye to eye after mom died.” Jim tossed the paper clip into the metal garbage can. “Look, anyway. You’ve got your job to do and I’ve got mine. Pasha, I mean, Mr. Chekov, has something you need.” With that, Jim turned towards the door and left the office. His heart was pounding and all he could hear was the insulting tone he’d just used with the guy he’d had the hots for all these months now. Fuck.

“Pasha. Doctor Spock is back to talk to you,” Jim said, and held out a hand when Pasha’s eyes grew wide. “Look, just have a seat. It’s cool.”

Spock strode down the hall, his arms behind his back. He didn’t glance at Jim, but went directly to stand next to Pasha.

“Lieutenant Chekov. I am Commander Spock.”

Pasha’s mouth fell open and he glanced at Jim. “But I thought you were ze doctor?”

“I am also a physician, that is true. But currently, I am acting as a Starfleet officer and I will be accompanying you back to Headquarters. You will gather your belongings and we will depart immediately.” 

Pasha snapped to attention as Jim watched. “Yes, sir,” he said, and spun to get his clothes.

“Mr. Kirk. Thank you for you service to Starfleet.” Spock tilted his head. “However distasteful it might have been. Good day.” 

Before Jim could say a word, Spock strode past Jim with Pasha in tow. “Thank you, Jim. For all zat you have done for me,” the young man said with a grin and a wave. A moment later, they were both out the door.

~*~

“Holy fuck,” Jim said and practically fell into the green overstuffed chair in McCoy’s office.

“What happened now? Flaherty getting riled again?” McCoy glanced at Jim as he scribbled notes into a file.

“No. Spock was just here. Pasha’s gone.” He let his head fall back and rubbed at his eyes.

“What do you mean? The hobgoblin took him? Didn’t seem that ill.” McCoy raised his brows at Jim. 

“No, Bones, it’s even more bizarre. What the kid said was real. He was a Starfleet officer. And so is our Doctor Spock. I guess Pasha was some kind of engineering genius and the Romulans really are after him. Isn’t that fucking crazy?”

McCoy shook his head. “You’re a Starfleet magnet, Jim.”

“Man, I insulted the hell out of him.” Jim twisted in the chair restlessly. 

“Pasha?”

“Spock. He was spouting some regulation that Pasha broke, and, fuck, I just started bitching about Starfleet. The guy’s a commander, Bones. A gorgeous fucking commander in Starfleet and I blew it.” He pounded a little on the arm of the chair. “Figures. I should have just enlisted. Save me the lecture I get every time I see _anyone_ who knew my dad.”

“Yeah, that would’ve work out well,” McCoy drawled and glanced at him with a sour expression.

“I really liked him, ya know?” Jim scrubbed his hands over his face. “You were right. I should have asked him out before. Even if he said no, at least I wouldn’t have been an asshole.” 

Bones huffed. “Oh, no, I am sure you would have still been an asshole.”

Jim kicked his friend and groaned.

~*~

A month later, Jim stepped off the train and exited the station near Columbia for the quarterly community mental health roundtable. He felt a fluttering in his stomach as he approached the School of Social Work. He didn’t know if Doctor Spock would be there, but if he was, Jim was definitely going to apologize. Maybe.

He found the meeting hall and said hello to the couple of faculty and other community workers he knew from the two years he’d been attending the meetings. After a few minutes, the small cluster of people had grown to around thirty. As the clock moved to ten a.m., Jim turned instinctively and saw Doctor Spock enter the room, his gray suit and blue tie set off against his usual crisp white shirt. All eyes in the room followed him as he approached an open chair at the far end of the circle.

Jim’s pulse raced and he swallowed down the goofy grin that was threatening to burst onto his face. He should not be so attracted to this guy. It was ridiculous. No, it was just fascination. He was an alien after all. Jim gave himself a mental shake. 

Opening his notepad, Jim focused on taking notes, watching the pen write the words, and resolutely not staring at Spock like he really wanted to. He was sure if he didn’t write down half of what the people were saying, he’d remember none of it. What the hell was wrong with him?

As the meeting drew to a close, Jim felt his chest tightening. He really should speak to Spock, but now his hands were sweating and the flush was back into his face. Damn. Instead he gathered his papers and tried to stay calm.

“You were unusually silent at today’s meeting, Mr. Kirk,” he heard from behind him. Fuck.

“Hi. Uh, yeah,” he said, glancing at Spock. “Good meeting, though. I’ll follow up with Marianna Gherflin. I think her job training program makes sense.” Jim was trying really hard not to wrinkle all of his papers as shoved them into his backpack. 

“Indeed. Her proposal has merits,” Spock said. 

“Yeah. I know a couple of guys who would probably do pretty well with it. I’ll have to upgrade some of the computers, but I think it’ll be good.” Jim felt like he was babbling and he took a breath and zipped his pack.

When he turned around, Spock was staring at him.

Jim swallowed. “So, how is Pasha? I mean, is he okay? Not in the brig or anything?” Jim tried to chuckle.

“Lieutenant Chekov is aboard the Enterprise and his plans are in preliminary testing. Starfleet is grateful for your assistance.”

Jim hiked his backpack onto his shoulder. “Yeah, about that. Look, I’m sorry if I insulted you. I mean, you’re like a high ranking officer. I just…I have a lot of feelings about Starfleet. You know, illogical feelings.” Jim shrugged, and held onto the stiff fabric of the chair next to his thigh.

“While I do not share your feelings about Starfleet, Mr. Kirk. They do contain a certain amount of logic. Both of your parents were killed serving Starfleet. It is logical for humans to experience emotional distress and to assign blame to the larger entity responsible for their dangerous missions.” 

“Assign blame? I…really?” Jim took a breath. He wasn’t assigning blame. Was he?

“I can see from your pupillary reaction and flushed epidermis that I have offended you,” Spock said.

Jim looked at him and blinked hard. “No. Look. I just wanted to apologize. We have different…thoughts about Starfleet. I have to go.” Jim stepped away, clutching the strap of his backpack as he turned.

“Jim…” Spock said, surprising him with his first name.

He turned to stare at Spock with a questioning expression. 

“Admiral Pike requested that I give you a package. Unfortunately, I do not have it with me today. Do you have a moment to accompany me to my office? It is not far.” Spock’s brown eyes seemed especially warm as he spoke. “Please.” The Vulcan nodded his head deferentially. 

“I…uh, okay. Sure.” Jim let out the breath he’d been holding and gave the Vulcan a half-smile. God, they were so awkward. “Lead the way.”

~*~

“Would you care for tea?” Spock asked as Jim settled into a dark wooden chair in Spock’s spacious office. The noontime sunlight was streaming through the wooden blinds and spilling onto the desk in front of him.

“Sure. Two sugars. I mean, if you have it. If not, it’s fine.” Stop talking Jim, he told himself. 

“I have recently acquired sugar as I have learned that humans prefer sweet beverages. It will be a moment.” 

As Spock prepared the tea, Jim glanced around his office, taking in the small statues and the oversized painting of Vulcan that was centered on the wall above a wide brown leather couch. 

“That’s Vulcan,” Jim said. Hello obvious.

“It is an artist’s representation of Vulcan. While it is not entirely accurate, it…to cite a human phrase, spoke to me of the warmth of Vulcan. Photographs of the planet show the colors to be much paler and less vibrant than they appear planetside.”

“I’ve heard it’s very hot there. This New York winter must be hard for you.” Jim glanced back at Spock who was standing in front of a bookcase with his hands clasped behind him.

“I wear several layers of clothing and find it physically comfortable.”

“Good. The winters take some getting used to.” Jim turned away from the painting to regard the Doctor. “Truth is, I prefer San Francisco’s climate. But this is home now…so.”

Spock turned to pour hot water into two cups and Jim watched him spoon sugar into Jim’s tea. He stepped around his desk and placed the cups on a low table under the painting and sat in an overstuffed leather chair. He motioned Jim to the couch. “Will you join me?”

Jim smiled and dropped down onto the center cushion and glanced towards the other side of the room. Another similar painting hung above a wide abstract statue. This one of Earth, the deep blues and greens contrasting with the one of Vulcan now above Jim’s head.

“I find the contrasts to be soothing,” Spock said, glancing at the painting as he held his cup of tea between his fingers. “As you may know, I am half-human.”

Jim picked up his tea and blew across the top of it. “Yeah, your mother is human, right?” Spock was pretty famous and Jim wondered for the first time what that must be like for him.

“Yes. Amanda Grayson was a linguist interested in learning about the Vulcan language, so she approached my father who is Ambassador to Earth. The rest, as humans say, is history.”

“Wow. That must have been weird for her. For a long time Vulcan didn’t really associate too much with Earth or the Federation.” Jim sipped his tea, finding it slightly bitter but interesting.

“Vulcans found no logic in becoming part of the Federation. As a race, humans are…unpredictable and illogical. Vulcans, prizing logic above all else, found the association with humans to be unwise.”

Jim chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that.” He set his tea back onto the table. “How’d you end up on Earth? Starfleet?”

“As a half-human, it was logical to gain an understanding of my human counterparts. Starfleet offered research opportunities not available on Vulcan.”

“Right. No humans.” Jim grinned, sitting back in the leather.

“Indeed.”

“How long have you been on Earth?” Jim asked, fingers tracing a seam at the top of the cushion next to him.

“Seven years, four months, and nineteen days.”

“You’re counting?” Jim laughed.

“Vulcans are inherently aware of the passage of time. It comes naturally to us to know the exact passage of time between events.”

“Interesting. That must come in handy. Humans don’t really think that way. I guess our brains are pretty messy, right?”

“I will admit to a certain lack of comprehension of human behaviors, but your brains have a certain order to them which has become clearer to me through my research.”

“Yeah, I’ve read some of it,” Jim offered, lying, as he had read all of it several times. “How’d you make those findings? Starfleet have some new brain tech?” Jim reached for his tea again and crossed his legs.

“Vulcans are telepathic.”

“Oh, shit. Right.” He blinked. “So do you know what I am thinking?” Jim felt himself scrambling inside his head.

“No. Vulcans are touch telepaths. Since we are not touching, I cannot know your emotions or thoughts. Furthermore, casual touch reveals only the sensation of emotions. My research into the structure of the human brain was conducted by engaging in a deeper exploration. A mind meld.”

“Like mind reading?” Jim was totally curious now. 

“That would be an appropriate description, although it does not involve words, as such. It may be more apt to describe it as images, much like your human movies. Vulcan brains are quite ordered, while human brains provide…a challenge.”

Jim laughed again, delighted to listen to him speak. “I bet.”

“Indeed.” Spock repeated and Jim could swear Spock’s eyes crinkled. Jim forced himself to look away and not gawk at how perfectly symmetrical Spock’s features were.

Spock sipped his tea and the pair fell into a companionable silence. After a moment, Spock stood and retrieved a small package from his desk. “Admiral Pike speaks quite affectionately about you, Jim. He explained your relationship to him. The concept of godfather is similar to the Vulcan concept of _t’kahr_ , an ancient word for teacher.”

Spock sat back down and laid the blue box on the table between them. “He further mentioned that he and your father were, what he termed, ‘old friends’ and that he had ‘meant to give you these a long time ago’.” The way Spock said it made him hear Chris’s voice in his head. He missed the guy.

“Yeah. They served on the same ship for a couple of years. I think Chris introduced my mom and dad.” Jim splayed his arms out wide. “And here I am.” He grinned at Spock who stared at him impassively. 

“You may take the package. I can assure you that I have not examined it beyond the external coloring and structure.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Thanks.” Jim picked it up, heavier than it looked, and slid it into his backpack. His stomach lurched as he did it, not quite sure if or when he’d ever open it. Maybe Bones would tell him what was inside.

“You are welcome, Jim.” Spock watched him curiously. “Do you like the tea?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s good. Has a strange taste. Not bad. Just different.”

“It is Vulcan. A mild variety that humans appear to enjoy.”

“Yeah. It’s interesting.” Jim picked up his cup again and swallowed more, grateful it had cooled. He glanced at Spock again. “So, you’re on sabbatical from Starfleet? I didn’t even know that existed.” Jim thought of his dad after his mom’s death. He’d barely taken any time off.

“I have been told that it is unusual, but my Vulcan citizenship has provided me with…special opportunities. Doctor Anita Vashar and I were communicating about several interesting patients and it was logical to interview them personally. I have been here for nine months, two weeks and one day.”

“Ah. I always wondered why you were at the community meetings. Doctor Vashar has been an advocate around the city for more inclusion of the mentally ill into mainstream society. She’s an impressive woman.”

“Indeed. Initially, I was under the mistaken impression that humans cared for their mentally ill as Vulcans do. While mental illness is rare on Vulcan, we find it logical to care for those among us who are impaired. The human idea of allowing men and women to sleep on the streets and die of hypothermia is illogical. And I must admit, stirs anger inside me.”

“Anger? Isn’t that an emotion? But I guess you are half-human,” Jim said thoughtfully.

“Emotions are not expressed or revered on Vulcan as they are on Earth. While emotions are strong in the Vulcan race, we have learned over thousands of years of following Surak’s teachings, that logic is superior to emotional reasoning. Vulcans strive to think and behave without the influence of emotions.”

“Superior, huh?” Jim asked with a teasing lilt.

“Logic has saved our race from internal destruction. In the days of Surak, the many Vulcan clans engaged in violent conflict and the race was at risk of destruction. Surak instructed us in the ways of logic and our race thrived.”

“And the Romulans? Is that when they split off? Because of Surak?” Jim asked, drinking more tea.

“You have studied Vulcan history?” Spock asked, raising a surprised eyebrow.

“No. Just makes sense. I knew they were descended from your race, but they seem to love war, although what do I know?” Jim chuckled and rubbed his thumb along the rim of his cup.

“An astute observation. While I am not an expert in Romulan culture, for they are even more secretive than Vulcans, it is known that one of the clans left Vulcan for the stars and was never heard from again. It is logical to assume that the Romulan Empire grew from that exodus.”

Jim nodded and finished his tea. His stomach rumbled loudly in the room and he chuckled. “Sorry. Didn’t have time to eat this morning.” Jim gave Spock a quick glance and stopped his breath. “Do you want to get some lunch?” he asked, voice slightly strangled.

“That would be…pleasurable,” Spock said and Jim let out his breath. He grinned wide, feeling like things were finally going his way with Spock.

“Cool.” He fingered the strap on his backpack and watched as Spock stood and gathered their cups.

~*~

Jim sat across from Spock at a small table inside the very un-Vulcan restaurant, Strictly Roots. The laid back vibe and reggae music made Jim smile through his veggie duck.

“This is like a pretty crazy lunch choice for a Vulcan. Isn’t it kinda the opposite of logic and button-down science?” Jim added more scotch bonnet sauce to his food.

“It offers flavors and atmosphere that are unlike many other places I have visited. And it is close to my office. You are amused?”

Jim laughed and then coughed as some hot sauce went down the wrong way. It made him laugh harder and turned into a vicious cycle where he couldn’t breathe and he was sure his face was beet red. “Hold on a sec.” He got up and went outside to catch his breath. The icy air shocked his system and eventually he was able to breathe. 

As he turned to go back inside, Spock came out. “Are you okay, Jim?” he said, moving unusually close.

“Yeah. Sorry. Too much hot sauce.” He coughed one more time and squeezed Spock’s upper arm for balance. Even through his suit jacket, he could feel the heat radiating off his skin. 

“Jim…” Spock said, eyes pinned to Jim’s face.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He removed his hand and wiped his mouth. “I am kind of a touchy guy. Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You did not offend me. I find that I enjoy your closeness.” Spock said and Jim blinked in surprise.

“You do?” He felt like he was gaping like a carp and snapped his mouth closed. 

“I am sorry. Are my intentions unwelcome?” Spock stepped back and looked away.

He nudged towards the Vulcan. “No. I mean, yes, I like you, too.” Jim felt like a sixth grader.

Spock’s eyes softened. “I am gratified.”

“Me, too,” Jim said, trying to keep his face in a reasonable facsimile of calm. His heart was jumping inside his chest and he really wanted to kiss him. 

They stared at each other for a long moment and then Spock shivered. 

“Oh, shit. Let’s go inside. You’ve got to be freezing.” Jim grabbed Spock’s hands and rubbed them between his. 

Spock pulled back sharply. “Inside,” he said, voice sounding strange.

“Sure, okay.” Jim opened the door and they walked back inside.

~*~

Two nights later, Jim yanked off his green shirt and threw it on his bed. It landed on a pile of other discarded shirts as he rifled through his closet.

“Come on, Jim. Just pick one. It’s a date not a fashion show.” McCoy drawled and shook the ice in his glass of bourbon.

“I haven’t had a date in, like, forever, and never with Spock!” he exclaimed, feeling a stress headache tightening in the back of his head. 

“Wear the purple one. It brings out your eyes. And the heathered sweater…this one,” McCoy said, picking up the sweater from the arm of the chair where he’d thrown it.

“You sure?” Jim laid them on his chest and turned in the mirror.

“Jesus, if you don’t fucking put those on, I’m going to sedate you and call the whole thing off.” 

“All right, all right!” Jim slid the shirt on and buttoned it, then pulled on the sweater. He admired himself in the mirror and then yanked the sweater back off.

“What now?” McCoy cried, waving his arm in the air.

“It’s too hot. I’ll put it on before I go outside.” He threw the sweater over his shoulder and lowered himself in the mirror to fix his hair. “I really should have gotten a haircut.”

“Oh, my god, you are such a debutante. Calm down, Jim. They guy’s Vulcan. You seriously think he’s gonna care if your human hair is a centimeter too long?”

“Is it? That noticeable?” Jim fluffed his hair and turned to the side.

“Jesus. Come on. Let’s go downstairs. I’ve got to get you out of here before you start undressing again.” McCoy stood and pulled at Jim’s arm to drag him out of the bedroom.

“Where’s my phone?” Jim asked as they passed through his small living room. 

“Here,” McCoy said and slapped the green-cased phone into his palm. “And here are your keys. PLEASE GO!” he shouted and shoved him hard towards the door. “It’s forty-five minutes on the train and if you don’t want to be late, get your ass moving.”

Jim looked at his watch. “Shit. Right. Thanks, Bones.” Jim ran out the door and swung around the banisters at top speed. “You’re sure I look all right?” he shouted up the steps, just to push McCoy’s buttons.

“You’re a fucking princess, Jim. Have fun!” Above his head, he heard his door slam closed and he grinned. He definitely intended to have fun.

~*~

An hour later, Jim was waiting at Spock’s building, glancing nervously between the doorman and the elevator. He paced around the small foyer, alternately sitting, then standing, then going to the door to watch for traffic.

Behind him, the elevator beeped and Spock rushed out carrying his briefcase. “Jim, I apologize for my lateness. I received a call from a colleague about a particularly distressed Vulcan who has recently arrived on Earth. I regret that I must postpone our dinner this evening.” 

“Oh.” Jim said, feeling his stomach sink. “No, of course. I understand. You go. Be safe.” Jim stepped back and zipped his coat.

“It is a highly unusual situation and I am the only qualified individual who might be able to help. I believe he could be dangerous.”

“Got it. Maybe tomorrow? Or whenever. Just let me know,” Jim said in a rush.

“Tomorrow is not possible. I am going to San Francisco.”

“Oh. It’s a Starfleet thing. No problem. Listen. You know where to find me.” Jim said, trying not to let his disappointment show on his face. Once again Starfleet was screwing with his life.

“I do. And Jim, I will.” Spock stepped forward and kissed Jim lightly on the lips. The Vulcan didn’t smile, but his eyes were soft when he moved away. 

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you when you get back.” Jim smiled at him, kind of dazed.

Spock moved towards the doors and stepped out. Jim glanced at the doorman who was clearly amused and grinned.

~*~

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Jim. All it takes is one crossed wire, and we’ll be a splatter in the sky.” Bones yanked on his seatbelt as he and Jim sat in the wide leather seats of a first class flight to San Francisco.

“Come on, Bones. Stop complaining. When was the last time you even left Brooklyn?” Jim elbowed his friend who had been grousing about the trip for a day and a half. After not hearing from Spock for nearly a week, the Vulcan had called and offered to fly Jim and McCoy, if he wanted, to San Francisco to join him. 

“You’re one to talk, martyr-man. You haven’t even left the neighborhood except to go to Columbia every couple of months. You’re the one who’s cracking up, not me,” McCoy said, elbowing Jim back. 

It had taken some convincing, but Jim had finally agreed after Spock called a second time and spoke to Bones. Jim had been worried about the guys in the neighborhood, but Spock had offered him a couple of social work interns to keep an eye on the shelter and do outreach for the week they’d be gone. 

“Well, maybe we both need a break,” he said, and Jim looked out the window, watching as the luggage trucks paused to wait for their plane to pull back from the terminal.

Six hours later, he and McCoy were stepping out of the terminal and into the car Spock had sent for them. “Your boyfriend has some connections, Jim.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jim protested and slid across the seat of the blue towncar.

“Oh, sorry, princess. Sugar daddy,” McCoy said, ducking into the car behind him.

“Jesus, Bones, just don’t say any of that shit in front of him,” Jim said curtly, and watched the scenery go by as the driver pulled away from the terminal. 

“All right, Jim. Don’t get your panties in bunch. I’m just messin’ with you.” McCoy slapped Jim on the knee and closed his eyes to settle in for the ride.

As they approached Starfleet headquarters’ underground garage, Jim’s nerves were strung tight. Symbols of the agency were everywhere around the city. Even the skies were littered with shuttles and small aircraft. The sheer size and population of New York had helped him forget, but being back in here again brought it all rushing back.

The pair took the elevator to the fortieth floor and Jim stepped out ahead of Bones to see Chris Pike standing nearby, chatting with another officer. 

“Jim!” he exclaimed. Chris’s smile was infectious and Jim grinned, embracing the man and clapping him on the back.

Chris stepped back and appraised Bones. “And you must be Doctor McCoy. Welcome back to Starfleet.”

“Admiral,” McCoy said, glancing around the open area. “Gotta say, I never expected to set foot back here again.” Jim looked at McCoy and waited for the insult. Man never could be nice about a thing.

“Well, Starfleet’s got a way of getting under your skin, right kid?” Chris said to both men.

“Yeah, like Melvaran mud fleas,” Bones answered and they all laughed.

“So, Spock told me that you two have been doing good work in New York,” Chris said as they walked past the high windows overlooking the Bay. “Said he was impressed and that’s quite a compliment coming from a Vulcan.” 

“Well, I’m sure that has more to do with Jim’s charms than his work ethic,” Bones said sarcastically and Jim elbowed him again. Chris glanced at Jim and suppressed a grin. Poorly.

Jim asked, “Where is Spock anyway? Thought he might be around when we got here.” 

“He’s with Nero. The patient he's been working with. I don’t know the details, but the Admiralty is pretty concerned about public safety at the moment.”

“Really? Because of a Vulcan?” Jim was surprised.

Chris led the three of them into his office and closed the door. “If it were only that simple, Jim. Nero’s no Vulcan.”

“Fuck. Romulan? Is he involved with Pasha’s cloaking device?”

“What?” McCoy asked, staring at Jim. “What the hell are you talking about, Jim?”

Pike side-eyed McCoy and sat behind his wide desk. “No. That was separate and taken care of. Thanks to Jim here.” Chris nodded in his direction. “You got my package?”

“Uh, yeah. Been busy, though. Didn’t get a chance to open it yet.” Jim said, knowing it sounded exactly like the bullshit it was. He just wasn’t ready.

“Truth is, Jim’s more sensitive than a turkey at Thanksgiving about that stuff,” McCoy said and Jim glared at him. 

“Remind me why I brought you along?” Jim asked and then turned back to Chris. “Sorry, sir. You were saying…about Nero?”

~*~

Jim was startled from a chaotic dream when his phone rang.

“Hello,” he answered, feeling like it was the middle of the night. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was only nine-fifteen.

“Jim? It is Spock. Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, no. It’s okay. I was hoping you would call.” Jim sat up and rubbed his face. Light from the building across the street glowed into his darkened room.

“I am sorry I was not able to meet you. Admiral Pike informed me of your arrival. I am glad your travels were comfortable.”

“Yeah. They were fine. Thanks, Spock. Where are you?” Jim asked, yawning wide enough to make his eyes water.

“I am on the ninth floor of your building. Number 912. My temporary quarters are much the same as yours and Doctor McCoy’s.”

“Oh, you’re close. Great.” Jim said, not sure what to do next.

“Do you require sleep? Should I contact you again in the morning?”

“No, Spock. No. Come up. Or I can come down. What do you want? I want to see you.” Jim blurted and then banged his head against the headboard. So much for playing it cool.

“Come to my quarters. I have beverages that you might enjoy,” Spock said.

“All right, give me ten minutes to wash up.” 

“Very well. Goodbye, Jim.”

“Bye, Spock.” Jim hit the End button and grinned, feeling the familiar rush of excitement he had when Spock paid attention to him. Damn, he really did feel like a school kid with a crush.

Jim splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. His face looked tired, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Picking up the purple shirt, he sniffed the armpits and slid it on. He grabbed his other pair of jeans and put on socks and his boots. He tucked his phone into his pocket along with his key and headed for the elevators.

Jim found Spock’s door and knocked. When the door opened, the scent of incense wafted into the hallway. Spock motioned him in. 

“Mmm. That smells nice. What is that?” Jim asked, glancing around the room.

Spock closed the door behind him and moved past Jim into the common area. “It is the smell of the _asenoi_ , a meditation firepot. Will you sit?”

“Sure. How are you?” Jim sat comfortably on the shallow couch against the far wall. His quarters, much like Jim’s, were plainly decorated in gray, red, and silver. In the corner was a small pot and a rolled rug.

“I am functioning adequately, Jim. Would you like tea? Or may I offer you beer?”

“You drink beer?” Jim asked, surprised.

“No, but humans seem to prefer beer and wine in the evenings. The ethanol interacts with neurotransmitters, often causing a relaxed sensation. Consumed in excess, it can cause death.”

“Um, yeah. I’ll have tea.” Jim wasn’t sure he wanted to drink after hearing it described so clinically.

“I do not have the tea I served you in New York. I do have _theris-masu_. It is more acidic, but a favorite of my mother’s.”

“That’s fine, Spock. Whatever you’re drinking.”

Jim stood and walked over to the window and watched the lights dance around the skies over the city. “Have you spent much time in space?” he asked Spock.

“Yes. I served for one year on the USS Farragut. It was a most enlightening experience.”

“I bet. You didn’t like it?” Jim had had enough space travel to last a lifetime. 

“I found living so closely among humans to be…taxing. It was my first experience upon graduating Starfleet and I find that I prefer staying on Earth where I may retreat to my own quarters and maintain control over my own schedule and interactions with others.”

“Yeah. I imagine being touch telepath on a cramped starship could be overwhelming.” Jim said, glancing away from the window to watch Spock prepare the tea.

“I learned a great deal from my experience, but I found that I was…unfulfilled, to use a human term.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Jim said, as he watched a dot of light speed across the nighttime sky. “I spent a long time trying to find out what to do with my life. I knew from the age of about twelve that Starfleet wasn’t for me, but my dad couldn’t accept it.” Jim shrugged and leaned against the kitchen island. “Are you more fulfilled now? Doing research and working with patients?”

“It does offer me a more comfortable environment. Vulcans are not the highly social creatures that humans are. We crave isolation and time to think and meditate. I am attempting to achieve a balance between my Vulcan need for those qualities and my human needs, which I must admit, that I am still discovering.”

“Life is tough to figure out sometimes,” Jim said and accepted a mug of tea from Spock. “Thanks.” Jim inhaled the steam. “Smells great.”

“My mother described it as ‘similar to Earl Grey’ which I have never tasted, but she assures me that many humans prefer it.”

“Yeah. It’s good.” The tea was too hot to drink, so Jim just held it.

“Would you like to sit?” Spock asked.

“No, I like looking out the window. From my apartment in Brooklyn, I can just see the top of the Manhattan skyline. No stars, though. Too bright. Here, there are so many ships overhead, it always looks like stars are twinkling.”

“How did you come to live in that particular area of the city, Jim?” Spock had moved next to Jim to also stare out the window.

“Couple of years back, I was working in shelter in the Bowery. Place was a gross mess and sometimes I thought it was better if the guys stayed in the streets. I was always breaking up fights, dealing with the police, and it was kind of a disaster. When I got my dad’s pension, I had been thinking about how I wanted to do better. Actually try to help guys get back on their feet instead of just being a flop house.”

“That is admirable. And somewhat unusual for a young human male.” 

Jim snorted a laugh. “Yeah. I’m an unusual sort of guy.”

“Indeed,” Spock said and Jim felt his cheeks color.

“So, yeah. Started thinking about how I could maybe buy a small place and help guys with job training and maybe get them a residence where they could be stable for a while before going out on their own. But I also wanted some space for the overnight stuff. Especially in the winter when it gets so cold. City shelters get full.”

“Your solution is logical.” Spock said and Jim smiled at his reflection in the window. Below them he saw the blue flashing lights of emergency vehicles speeding down a city street.

“I was walking down Third Avenue one afternoon and saw the realty sign. The building was kinda beat up, but when I saw it, I knew it was right. From there, the rest is history.” Jim blew across the top of his tea and took a sip. Unusual tasting, but good.

“And Doctor McCoy? How did he come to join you?”

Jim chuckled. “Bones? Found him in a bar in Cobble Hill. Said his cousin was letting him stay with her until he found a permanent position on staff somewhere. Have to say, I’d never met an unemployed doctor, but I convinced him to move into the Mission and work for me. We get money from the City and the State. We’re licensed, you know. I think we do good work. Some months are tougher than others, but it’s worth it.” Jim let his voice drop at the end, feeling uncomfortable tooting his own horn.

“Your charity is commendable,” Spock said.

“Thanks,” he answered and turned to face Spock. “How are things with the Romulan?” 

“Admiral Pike informed you of his identity?” 

“He trusts me, I guess.” Jim shrugged. “But you don’t have to tell me anything. I’m sure it’s top secret.”

“It is true that I cannot reveal anything about the nature of his disturbance, but he is quite fascinating and very troubled.”

“I am sure it’ll get worked out. You’re on the case, right?” Jim grinned at him and leaned up against the refrigerator to stare at Spock. He was feeling warm and comfortable and loved to look at him.

Spock continued to look out the window. “It is my hope that he can be healed. Our brain structure is similar, but he has suffered severe trauma that could prove immune to repair.”

“Hmm.” Jim said and turned his head to the side to glance out the window again.

Spock set his cup down with a clink on the center island and moved close enough to Jim that he could smell the incense that clung to his shirt.

“I am gratified that you accepted my invitation, Jim. I believe it was forward of me to ask you to join me in San Francisco.” Spock touched Jim’s cheek with the tip of his finger. “I found that I could not wait until my work was complete to see you.” Spock’s touch sent a shiver of excitement through Jim’s body.

“Spock,” he said, not knowing how to answer. Spock made his brain stop working.

When Spock’s lips brushed against his, Jim leaned into him, opening his mouth to taste his lips. Spock flicked his tongue against Jim’s and his hands lightly brushed Jim’s face and neck. Holding his tea awkwardly in one hand, Jim slid his other arm around Spock’s neck, pulling him in tighter for a deeper kiss. His touch was electric, setting Jim’s skin tingling wherever Spock’s skin grazed his.

Jim’s fingers slid into Spock’s hair, softer than it looked with its sharp bangs and shiny appearance. He touched the tip of Spock’s ear with his finger and heard the Vulcan gasp. Jim smiled into their kiss and released Spock’s mouth to lick the sensitive greenish tip. A moment later, the cup of tea was plucked out of Jim’s hand and he found himself pressed hard into the refrigerator. 

“I desire you, Jim,” Spock said against the skin of Jim's cheek, hot breath sending a shiver through him.

“Since I saw you, Spock. All those months ago. My god,” Jim whispered, biting his ear gently. 

Spock drove his hips into Jim and he felt his hardness. He had no idea what Vulcan anatomy looked like, but he wanted to find out. Jim cupped Spock’s ass with his now free hand and pulled Spock even tighter against him. “The bed, Spock,” Jim said, breathlessly.

Spock pulled away sharply, and gave Jim a sizzling look with hooded dark eyes. He pulled Jim towards the sleeping area and pushed him down. “I have had few human lovers, Jim. You will tell me if you wish to stop?”

“Yeah. No, I don’t want to stop.” Jim licked along Spock’s mouth, wanting to taste him again, wanting to feel him inside him. Jim pulled at Spock’s shirt as Spock ground his hips into Jim’s, creating pressure and escalating his desire. “Naked. We need to be naked. Please, Spock,’ Jim pleaded. 

Spock raised up and pulled off his shirt, revealing a bare, smooth chest with lean muscle. Jim touched his stomach and pulled the clasp of his pants open. Spock tugged at Jim’s shirt and pulled it over his head. Jim wrapped his arms around Spock’s waist, nuzzling the soft skin around his navel. He tasted salty and clean and Jim nipped his skin with his teeth. Spock pulled away and divested himself of his pants, unabashed, letting his dick hang heavy in front of him. Jim crawled forward, his knees digging into the firm mattress, to kiss Spock’s chest. He trailed his kisses down the center of his stomach to nuzzle a soft patch of hair near his dick. The skin of his erection brushed Jim’s neck and Jim turned to tongue the member experimentally. Spock gasped above him. 

Taking Spock in hand, Jim pumped his dick twice before he slid off the bed to kneel in front of him, adding his mouth and letting his tongue lave the tip. He tasted the salt of pre-cum and tongued over the double ridge and soft texture that ran along the bottom of his erection.

Spock dragged his fingers through Jim’s hair as he sucked him off, using his hands and mouth until he felt Spock trembling. “Jim, you must stop.” Spock pulled himself away and also dropped to his knees, attacking Jim’s mouth with his own. “I am overwhelmed with desire for you. I want to explore you.”

Spock reached for and unclasped Jim’s jeans, tugging them down to his thighs and taking his erection in hand. Spock’s hand were gentle and Jim pushed his hips into his palm. “Harder, Spock. I won’t break,” Jim said against Spock’s mouth.

Spock did as he was told and Jim groaned, mind blissing out with the heat of Spock’s hand. “Can you sense me, Spock? Do you know what I'm feeling?”

“Yes, Jim. I share your need. I want to be inside you.” 

Spock unceremoniously lifted him back onto the bed, and Jim chuckled, “I forgot that Vulcans were really strong.”

Spock blinked at him, worry creasing his brow, and Jim reassured him. “No, you’re fine. Just saying. Now get down here.” He pulled Spock towards him and the rubbed their dicks together, hands and mouths roaming each other’s skin.

Spock let his fingers drift down Jim’s balls to press a teasing finger against Jim’s hole. Jim gasped. It had been a long time. “You have lube?” Jim asked and Spock moved briefly to pull something out of a bag nearby.

“You were ready for me?” Jim teased and watched as Spock squirted the clear liquid onto his fingers.

“I did not assume, but I hoped.” Spock looked so sincere that Jim dragged him down for a kiss. A moment later, Jim felt Spock’s fingers pressing at his entrance again. He groaned and spread his legs wide, tucking his hips to give access. He gasped at the sharp, exquisite feeling of Spock’s finger popping inside. “God, yes, please, Spock.” Jim tilted his hips more, eager.

Spock obliged, and pushed in further, twisting around to add another. Jim groaned and bit Spock’s lip. “Fuck, I want you, Spock.” Jim’s hands pulled at Spock’s shoulders, wanting the press of skin anywhere he could get it.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Jim,” Spock answered, his voice rough as Jim’s fingers curled around his erection. 

“I want to feel you. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to sit tomorrow without thinking of you.” Jim wanted the burn, wanted to be fucked hard by Spock.

“As you wish, Jim,” Spock answered and Jim felt the blunt head of Spock’s dick against his hole. Spock hovered above him, their eyes locked together as Spock finally pushed inside him. “Fuck yesssss…” Jim hissed. “Oh, god, Spock. Oh, fuck,” Jim pulled Spock down against his chest and Spock sunk deeper inside him. “You feel so good,” Jim said against Spock’s neck and used his teeth to scrape along Spock’s thick shoulder. 

“Jim,” Spock said against Jim’s hair and moved inside him. 

Jim’s fingers dug into Spock’s hips, pulling him tighter and faster, tucking his knees against Spock’s sides. “Fuck me, Spock. Yes, oh yes,” Jim cried out when Spock hit the sweet spot over and over again. 

Jim gasped sharply when Spock’s hand started to pump Jim’s dick. “I can’t hold on, Spock. Oh…Spock!” Jim shouted as he came, eyes rolling back in his head with a bright flame of orgasm. Spock fucked him through it, leaning hard on his prostate, pounding into him until Jim thought he might pass out. Spock’s body trembled and shook, eliciting a growl from deep in Spock’s chest. Jim cried out along with him, unable to contain his pleasure in experiencing the Vulcan fall apart against him.

Spock pressed his face into Jim’s neck, his breathing hot against his skin. Jim put his hands against Spock’s cheeks and pulled him up for a deep kiss. He was so enthralled with him, wanted him everywhere, all the time. He’d never felt anything so powerful.

They continued to kiss and touch long after the orgasms’ hold faded. Jim felt waves of exhaustion overtaking him and his mind drifted. 

“Spock,” he said, feeling his warm body move away. A moment later he thought he felt a cool cloth, but he wasn’t sure. He felt the bed move and Spock’s arms embracing him. After that, nothing more.

~*~

Jim woke the next morning alone and stretched. His ass was sore and all of his muscles ached, but goddamn, he felt great. He grinned and called out to Spock.

“I am here, Jim. I did not want to wake you.” The Vulcan came around the corner and sat next to Jim on the bed. “I am gratified that you are here,” he said and stroked Jim’s hair.

“Mmm. Me, too. What time is it?”

Jim rolled his face into Spock's hand.

“Nine twenty-six.”

“Shit. Sorry, I slept so long. I hardly slept the night before we left.” Jim yawned and stretched again.

“Your body is accustomed to a different time zone. I have experienced similar sensations during my travels. Vulcans are able to function without sleep for longer periods of time than humans, so the transition is less difficult. Do you require sustenance?” 

“Yeah. And the bathroom.” Jim sat up and gave Spock a closed-mouth kiss. He hopped off the bed and went into the bathroom. After a quick piss and a brush of his teeth, he emerged. He picked up his boxers and jeans, which Spock had folded, and slid them on. Spock was in the kitchen preparing food.

“I have a selection of fruit that you may enjoy, Jim. I am aware of the human preference for breakfast meats, but as I am a vegetarian, I do not have any of those items in the pantry.”

“Fruit’s fine, Spock. Thanks. Any coffee?”

“I do not have coffee, although I realize now that my survey of your needs was incomplete. I will rectify that error.” Spock left the kitchen and disappeared for a minute. When he returned, he was dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater. 

“Spock, no. Where are you going?” Jim hopped off the kitchen stool and slid his arms around Spock’s neck. “I don’t need coffee as much as I need you. Stay.”

Tilting his head, Spock said, “I desire for you to be comfortable and happy, Jim. A coffee establishment operates on the first floor. If you require a shower, I can return with coffee before you are finished.”

“No, you don’t have to,” Jim said and kissed Spock lightly on the mouth.

“It pleasures me to serve you, Jim.” He said it with such sincerity, that Jim chuckled, and gave him a harder kiss before he released him. “Okay. I’ll grab a shower and see you in ten.”

Jim was towel-drying his hair when Spock returned with a coffee and a bag of pastries. “I was not aware of your pastry preferences, so I instructed the clerk to select a range of flavors. I trust that one or more will meet with your satisfaction.”

“I’m sure, Spock. Thanks.” Jim opened the coffee and inhaled. He sipped a bit, tasting sugar already added. “Perfect.”

Spock seemed to brighten with Jim’s praise and turned to pour hot water into a mug for his tea. “I am required to check on Nero today, but I do not expect it will take long. Admiral Pike expressed a desire to take you to lunch, so it is advisable to contact him directly to confirm with him.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’m flexible. Although, I should check in with Bones. Do you mind?”

“Do as you wish, Jim.” Spock nodded.

Jim pulled up McCoy’s number and hit send, waiting as the call rang through. 

“McCoy,” the man answered roughly.

“Sorry, Bones. Didn’t mean to wake you. You want to have lunch with Chris today?”

“The Admiral? No thanks. Do your own thing, Jim. I’m going back to sleep. Bother me later.” He hung up on him and Jim dropped his phone back into his pocket.

“Will the doctor be joining you?”

“Nah. He’s a grump before ten o’clock. I’ll catch up with him after lunch.”

Jim drank his coffee and munched on a cheese danish while Spock cut fruit and presented it to Jim. “How long do you think you’ll be in San Francisco?”

Jim asked Spock.

“I do not have enough information to answer your question with accuracy.”

“Ah. No guesses then?” Jim licked his fingers of errant cheese.

“Vulcans do not guess.” Spock chewed on a piece of orange.

“Right. So what now? I guess I should call Chris and see about lunch.” Jim sighed. “I hope he doesn’t give me the recruitment speech again.” Jim shook his head and grimaced.

“Your disdain for Starfleet is most curious,” Spock said, pulling the peel off of a banana.

“It’s full of bad memories, Spock. Took my family away and kept me in a box. I don’t want that. I don’t want to take orders and live in a cramped starship for a year at a time. Starfleet is self-serving… There are enough problems on Earth that I don’t feel like running off to the stars means that much.”

“I am from the stars, as you say,” Spock protested.

Jim glanced at him and pinched his lips together. “Sorry, Spock. I keep insulting you. I don’t mean to. I guess I’m a minority in my views. Maybe I am just ‘assigning blame’ as you said the other day.” Jim shrugged.

“I did not mean to offend, Jim. I seek only to understand.” Spock’s hand froze partway to his lips.

“It’s no big deal. Humans have lots of misunderstandings and trouble communicating. And sometimes we lie to ourselves. I try not to think about Starfleet too much, you know. It hurts.” Jim pounded his fist against his heart for emphasis.

“I believe I understand, Jim. I grieve with thee.” Spock touched Jim’s other hand and threaded their fingers together.

Jim stared into Spock’s warm brown eyes. “Thanks, Spock.” Jim squeezed his hand and slid off the stool and walked around the island to embrace Spock. His black shirt was soft against Jim’s bare chest. He felt warm and comfortable in Spock’s strong arms.

~*~

Two hours later, Jim was on his way across the campus to Starfleet headquarters. Spock had gone ahead to visit with Nero while Jim changed in his own quarters and checked in again with McCoy.

“Jim Kirk for Admiral Pike,” Jim said to the attractive brunette sitting at the reception desk.

“Yes, sir. One moment.” The young man picked up the phone, announced him, and smiled at Jim. “You can go right in, sir.” 

“Thanks.” Jim grinned back, feeling unusually confident and in a flirtatious mood.

“Chris. How are you? Hungry I hope?” Jim strode across the room and clasped Chris’s hand as he stood.

“You’re looking rested. I take it Commander Spock found you?” Chris’s voice held amusement.

Jim had the decency to blush and ducked his head. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m glad. Spock’s one of the good guys.” He clapped Jim on the back and guided them out of his office. “I was thinking Thai or sushi. Have a preference?”

“Either’s fine.” Jim followed him to the elevators and they sped down to street level. The walked out into the sun emerging from a cloud and brightening the quad around them. 

“There's a sushi place not far from here. Best uni around.”

“Eh. I’m no fan. Love the unagi, though. I could eat the sea right now, I'm so hungry.”

Once they were seated and had placed their orders, Chris gave him a long look. “You know, Jim. I had a conversation with Spock when he brought Chekov back to Starfleet. He said you were ‘quite antagonistic’ about Starfleet. Figured maybe a couple of years away would have calmed that some.”

“Why would it? Mom and dad are still dead.” Jim took a sip of his Sapporo. He didn’t mince words with Chris; he owed him that much.

“You know, Jim. Starfleet does good work. It’s a peacekeeping, humanitarian armada—”

“Bullshit.” Jim interrupted. “It spends trillions of credits to save aliens from oppression and does shit for the men and women on Earth.”

“That’s not true, Jim. What we’ve discovered has changed humanity, changed medicine, saved lives.” Chris eyed Jim levelly.

“No doubt, Chris. But it turns a blind eye to the problems we still have. You know, about half of the men I work with have some connection to Starfleet. It offers these great careers, but when you’re done with them, they’re on their own.”

Chris sighed and leaned back as the waiter brought their food. “It’s problem, Jim. I’ll grant you that.” Chris poured some soy sauce into a rectangular ceramic dish. “Actually, that’s some of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Here we go,” Jim snorted and rubbed the rough edges off of his chopsticks. Then he picked up a piece of salmon and popped it into his mouth.

“You’re not the only one to complain about Starfleet’s…focus, Jim. We hear it all the time in San Francisco. The divide between the rich and the poor is greater than ever. I see it, too.”

“Yeah, so they’re gonna put their money where their mouths are?” Jim asked, chasing down the sushi with more beer.

“Sort of. I don’t think Starfleet’s gonna be the answer to the world’s problems, but it should take care of its own. I want you to be a leader in that effort.”

Jim nearly choked on piece of yellowtail tuna. “What?” he coughed and drank some water. 

“We’ve been talking about a program for veterans. I know there’s a lot of mental illness, PTSD, depression, other problems with families… They need more support than we’ve given them. Sometimes Starfleet’s focus is so far out there that we forget where we’re standing.” Chris tapped his chopsticks on the table and scooped up a sliver of fish.

“So, what’s the idea? I’m not Starfleet. You must have other people who can do it.” 

“Yeah, we do, but they’re bureaucrats. They don’t have the anger, frankly, and I think we need that. They’d assign budgets and well-meaning doctors and therapists, but it wouldn’t be the same. We need some original thinking…it’s not just something you can throw money at. Starfleet needs someone like you, Jim.”

Jim took a deep breath and shook his head. “Man, this is not the recruitment speech I was expecting. Damn.” He took a long drink of beer and swiped his hand across his lips. His head felt like it was spinning. This trip had too many fucking surprises already and he couldn’t keep up.

“Look, we’re still working out the details, but if you’re interested, it will help. Your name has clout, Jim, whether you want it to or not. Winona and George are idols around here.”

Jim felt his eyes burn and he shoved two pieces of sushi in his mouth to distract himself. The rice sucked all of the moisture out of his mouth and he struggled to swallow it all. More beer helped.

“God, Chris. I can’t leave my guys. And Bones.” 

“Doctor McCoy’s commission can be reactivated, if he wants.”

“Shit, I don’t know I’ve been working hard to build up the Mission. It’s necessary. It helps people.”

“Jim, I don’t want to be a hardass, here, but it’s what six beds? How about a hundred beds? Didn’t you ever think you were meant to do something greater?”

Jim frowned and swiped his tongue across his lips. He glanced at Chris who was staring intently at him. “I’ll think about it. I don’t know. Gotta talk to Bones.”

“Don’t take too long. The mood could shift if this Nero thing gets any bigger. Threat of war always shifts the focus.”

“You think Spock’s going to make progress?”

“He already has. I think it’s contained.”

“He’s pretty brilliant,” Jim said with a swelling of pride in his chest. 

Jim felt Chris’s eyes on him, but he continued eating, letting his mind spin out the possibilities for a moment before he reigned it in. 

“I’ll think about it.”

~*~

A few hours later, Jim was back in his quarters, feet up on the sofa as he stared out the window at the clouds passing overhead. Spock was still with Nero and McCoy had blown him off to visit a couple of old Starfleet friends.

“I see you every day, Jim. Last thing I want is your ugly mug lighting up my door on vacation,” he’d said on the phone and Jim laughed. It was good to know that Bones had some connections in San Fran.

Jim thought hard about Chris’s offer, what it would mean to help all those men and women, maybe other races he hadn’t ever met. But being employed by Starfleet, losing the anonymity he had in New York. He didn’t know if he was ready for that. He swallowed and sat up. 

He crossed over to his suitcase and pulled out the box that Chris had given him. Bones had tucked it in there without telling him. Somehow, the guy seemed to know what Jim needed. 

He sat on the floor next to the bed and opened the lid. Inside were paper photographs, pretty rare in these days of holos and digital everything. He touched the top photo, his dad as a younger man, his arm tight around Chris’s neck. They were laughing, holding up beers and mugging for the camera. His dad looked happy and untroubled. Jim flipped the photo and saw the date. The year before he met his mother. 

Beneath that photo were more from around the same time. His father’s early days in Starfleet, pictured with aliens and alien landscapes throughout the galaxy. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the photos. Chris looked like an idiot in most of them. Hell, they both did. Must have been hard for Chris to hand them over.

Jim flipped through the pictures and paused at one of his mother, her long blond hair around her head like a halo against the backdrop of a bright sun. Jim’s eyes burned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a picture of his mother that wasn’t the one he had in his office. In that one, she was older, more serious in her Starfleet uniform, receiving a commendation with his dad standing nearby. Jim had been in elementary school during that. It was the last picture taken of her before she died.

Now, Jim studied the photo in his hand, the one where she seemed so young and alive, not too much younger than he was now. He could see the resemblance more clearly, the color of her hair, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Jim had always thought he looked more like his dad with the blue eyes and square jaw, but she had such spirit in this picture, didn’t she? Bright and vibrant, not taking life so seriously. He wished that he could have known her then. Really known her, like Chris had. Now, twenty years later, he could barely remember her.

Jim shoved the picture back in the box and brushed his eyes with his wrist. Stupid idea.

He closed the box, dropped it onto the bed, and went into the bathroom to rinse his face. When he emerged, he heard a knock at his door. 

With a yank, he pulled it open to find Spock standing there in his Starfleet uniform. He was happy to see him, but the familiar blue shirt and insignia made his stomach sour.

“Hey, Spock. Come in.” Jim turned away from the door and went to the kitchen to grab a beer. He took a long breath and let it out. His mind wasn’t cooperating.

“Jim? You are unwell?” Spock asked, his voice behind him.

“I’m okay, Spock. Don’t worry about it.” Beer dribble down his chin as he took a long draught.

“I have finished for the day with Nero. He is improving. The probability that he will recover has increased.”

“Good, that’s good, Spock.” Jim wiped his mouth on his shoulder and turned around, avoiding Spock’s eyes.

“It is gratifying,” Spock answered and Jim felt his eyes on him. He slumped on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He should be better at faking it than he was. 

“Forgive my inability to fully read human emotions, but is it accurate to classify your mood as ‘upset’?” Spock had moved forward to stand at the edge of the coffee table.

“Yeah.” Jim sighed. He was used to going off alone to handle all this stuff. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Spock here or not, but he owed him an explanation.

“Your lunch with Admiral Pike was troublesome?” Spock asked.

“Yeah, no. I mean he offered me a job.”

“Ah, the ‘Starfleet recruitment speech’ you called it. I recall your assertion that it caused you upset the last time the Admiral spoke to you in that fashion.”

“No, not this time.” Jim sat forward and took another sip of his beer. “Sit Spock. I’m not that great at trying to explain my feelings. I mean, you’d think I could do it considering my job.” Jim shrugged.

“I am skilled at listening, as well, Jim, but also find it difficult to express feelings.” 

Jim gave a small snort. It was really true. “Chris said they’re starting a veteran’s program. Something different, something that could really help and he wants me to be involved.”

“The United Veterans Program,” Spock said, pursing his lips.

“You know it?”

“Jim, it is the program I have been developing in New York.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were doing research?”

“I don’t believe I ever told you why I was in New York, simply that I was working with Doctor Vashar.”

“I guess I assumed.” Jim picked at the label on his beer.

“Columbia University has a wide network of resources for the mentally ill and she was kind enough to let me conduct a meta-analysis of all available models of intervention. In addition to meeting you at the quarterly roundtable, Jim. I was familiar with your agency as a model of helping the homeless rebuild their lives. I found your approach logical and thorough. And upon meeting you, I was further fascinated. I would be honored if you would join the program.”

“Shit. Why didn’t Chris tell me?” Jim felt a little like he was set up.

“It is logical to assume that he did not want our…romantic relationship to influence your decision.”

“But it does!” Jim stood and began to pace, feeling blocked in and trapped. He should have thought more about the Starfleet thing before he jumped into bed with Spock.

“Fuck. I need some air.” Jim set his beer down on the coffee table with a thunk, grabbed his phone and key, and left.

~*~

By the time McCoy found him, he was three drinks in and flirting with the bartender, an older guy with black hair and brown eyes that reminded him of Spock. It was the laughter that gave him away though, a big toothy grin that broke the mystique.

“Nice place, Jim,” McCoy said, sliding next to him and glancing at the bartender. “Bourbon, rocks. Make it a double.” 

“How’d you find me?” Jim said, feeling his tongue slide over the words.

“Figured you’d go to the first dive you saw. This is the third one I checked. Forgot how many poor cadets there are in Starfleet.”

“Lucky them,” Jim quipped and drank more whiskey.

“Spock called me. Guy’s not too bad once you get past the total lack of affect, but hey. I guess that’s a Vulcan for you.”

“Yeah. Pretty awesome, right?” Jim said into his glass as he took another drink.

“Not if you fuck it up. Even for a guy with no expressive capabilities, I could tell he was upset. Can’t just walk out on people, Jim.” McCoy took the drink the bartender slid towards him.

“Told me about Pike’s offer. It’s a good program.”

“It’s Starfleet, Bones.” Jim dragged his thumbnail along the scratches in the wood of the bar.

“Yeah. Deep pockets and lots of people who need services. I thought that was the goddamn point, Jim.”

“It’s fucking Starfleet. I don’t want to work for Starfleet. I want it out of my life and now I’m in love with a fucking officer.”

“Well, shit, I guess you are screwed, aren’t you? Poor Jim, lost his parents and has to fight windmills for the rest of his life. I think you’re just pissed that you didn’t come up with the idea yourself, that maybe there are other people who give a shit, and maybe some of them are in Starfleet. Get your head out of your ass, Jim. You can’t rescue the world six guys at a time. It’s a good program, and every single one of those men count. But damn, Jim. This is life changing. Not just theirs, but yours and mine. Setting policy and making sure these people get what they need.” Bones swallowed down both shots at once. “For once, Jim, it’s not about you.”

McCoy slammed down his glass and stood up. “You have some shit to work out, Jim. I’m taking Pike’s offer. You do what you want. I’ll see you back in Brooklyn. Or not. You’re on your own.”

McCoy stormed out of the bar leaving Jim with his mouth hanging open. For all of his bullshit, he’d never actually been pissed at him before. Jim closed his mouth, slouched down into his jacket, and ordered another drink.

~*~

Jim drank like there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world, and then when he got cut off, he staggered down a nameless street, passing by cadets in red uniforms, clinging together and laughing. He felt sourness rising into his mouth and dashed into a narrow alley and threw up as many times as it took to put him on his knees, coughing and crying, his hands covered in mud and vomit.

He stumbled across the alley and slid down the opposing wall, his ass landing hard on something soft and squishy. He groaned, disgusted and dizzy, feeling like the fifteen year-old that had stolen a shuttle from Starbase Eleven and thought he could make it back to Earth. His father had been recalled from the Excelsior, raging mad and threatening military school. Jim remembered laughing in his face, spitting words at him about what a shitty dad he’d been and how ashamed mom would have been of him. Even now, it made Jim’s stomach roil and he lurched off the wall to throw up again.

 _You feel nothing. Nothing! You NEVER loved her!_

His father had hit him then, punched him right in the face and he went down laughing, bitterness and rage making him feel brave. He’d left him for good that time, signing the papers to send him to his uncle in Iowa. That had been worse, but at least Jim could fight back, could give as good as he got from Frank, the fucking loser. Learned how to fight from that asshole in a way he’d never have known otherwise. He survived that shithole for two years until he was old enough to get out.

Jim slumped back against the wall, his eyes refusing to stay open. He just wanted the world to stop moving, the inside of his head to stop remembering. The booze was supposed to numb it, but instead it fired his memories like a kiln, molten and burning right through him. His mother who never got to say goodbye, his father kept away by Jim’s stubbornness, his drive to do anything against Starfleet. 

_It’s not about you this time, Jim._

McCoy’s words rang through his head. All of it was about him. Buying the Mission, helping the men, sticking it to Starfleet in his own futile way. He’d never thought of working it from the inside, turning it into something that he could be proud of, something that didn’t leave kids without their mothers and fathers. 

Bullshit, Jim. Bullshit. It was always still about him. What was the fucking point?

A bright light flickered in his eyes, voices he couldn’t understand and strong arms that lifted him up. A warm room, his body slumped against something flat and cool and soft. The hiss of something icy against his neck. Silence and blackness. Finally.

~*~

Jim’s own groaning woke him up and he blinked, eyes thick with sleep. The familiar pale gray of Starfleet walls greeted him and he buried his face back in the pillow.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. You’ve been out for thirteen hours. Time to face the music.” McCoy’s voice was making his head hurt.

“Go away,” he said, groaning more and feeling like his tongue had been run over by a truck.

“You’re damn lucky we found you, Jim. Your vitals were all over the place and you were swelling up like a goddamn Valarian saddlefish. Allergic to some other goddamn thing. What’d you eat? Probably nothing. Then you drank something. I told you whiskey, straight, no mixers. Drank so damn much you couldn’t even remember not to kill yourself.” McCoy was muttering a blue streak above Jim’s head and he pulled the pillow over his ear to muffle the sound.

“Go away,” he tried to shout, but his voice was hoarse and it came out like a squeak.

“Oh, that’s nice. Save your ass and this is the thanks I get.” McCoy held another hypo to his neck and he winced. 

A few minutes later, his head felt clear enough that he attempted to roll over. It was successful but he winced at the sunlight coming in the window across the room. He blinked and covered his eyes with his arm. “Aagh,” he groaned

“Oh, she’s awake. Well, hello, Sunshine.” The blinds snapped closed and he heard felt Bones sit heavily on the bed next to him.

“Helluva a stunt you pulled last night, Jim. When was the last time you drank that much? Or at all? Blood alcohol of .23, for fuck’s sake.”

Jim blinked at his friend. “I dunno, Bones. I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He felt even worse than he had last night. 

“Save it, kid. I shouldn’t have stormed out. Guess I didn’t realize how upset you were until I came back here and found those damn pictures. Shoulda never put them in your bag.” 

“S’okay, Bones. My fault.” Jim could hardly speak he was so tired.

“Gonna take a while to get you feeling better. Spock’s been here but I sent him away. I told him I’d call him when you were back to your old asshole self. It’ll be a couple of hours. I want you to try to eat something.”

McCoy helped Jim sit up some and gave him a pan to urinate in. When he groaned, McCoy yelled at him. “You get up, you’ll be on the floor. Just swallow your pride and piss already.”

After a minute, he complied. His face would’ve been red if he hadn’t needed to go so bad. “Thanks, Bones.” Jim let his head loll to the side. He could hardly keep his eyes open.

~*~

The sun was no longer shining through the blinds when Jim woke for the second time. He’d managed to eat some soup before passing out, but now he felt better, clearer and the only thing wrong was that he had to pee again.

He nudged himself to sitting, felt okay, but had to hold on to the side of the bed.

When McCoy came in, he put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Hold on. Let me help.” Jim shuffled to the bathroom with McCoy’s help and managed to wipe his face with a cloth and wash his hands before he went back to the bed. He breathed heavily and looked at McCoy’s back as he unzipped his medical bag.

“Pike wants me to call him when you’re up for talking. I’d like to see you feeling more yourself before you tackle Spock. Not exactly sure what you’re going to do about him.”

“What do you mean? He okay?”

“Not sure, Jim. He was with me last night when we found you. I think the whole thing shook him up. But, hey, what do I know. He’s a Vulcan and maybe he’s always that pale.”

“Shit, Bones. You shoulda left me in that alley.”

“Oh, quit your crying. You’re fine. Got a few messes to clean up, but they care about you. Don’t know why, but they do. Just man up, all right?” McCoy held out two tablets and a glass of water.

“What’s that?”

“Stupid pills. It’s an emergency, so take them quick.”

Jim put his hands out and took what McCoy offered. “Very funny.”

“Ha ha,” McCoy said and left the room. 

Jim fell back on the pillows and closed his eyes again, memories of Spock’s face mixing with the images of his parents from Chris’s photos. None of it made sense to his tired brain.

When he woke the next time, it was dawn and pale gray light was seeping in through the blinds. He sat up, feeling better and more than a little hungry. Slowly, he was able to stand and made his way to the bathroom again. He felt more like himself now, not groggy, but a little weak, probably since he hadn’t eaten in forever.

He stripped his boxers off and stepped into the shower, choosing water instead of sonic because he was pretty sure he had grossness in places the sonic shower couldn’t reach.

When he stepped out, McCoy popped his head inside. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Bones.” He dried himself off and left the bathroom, a wave of steam trailing out behind him. He dragged his backpack to the bed, dug out some clothes, and slid them on.

“I called Pike. Said he’d be here in half an hour.” McCoy stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Now that you can piss and shit by yourself, I’m gonna head back to my quarters. My neck’s sore from sleeping on that sofa. You’d think they’d make ‘em big enough for a grown human man.” McCoy rubbed his neck and spun away.

“Bones,” Jim called and waited until he came back into the doorway. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Just fix your mess so we can get to work.” Bones strode away and Jim heard his door close a moment later.

After another minute, Jim stood and walked to the kitchen, trying very hard not to think about what an ass he’d been the day before. Or was it the day before that? He checked his watch. Fuck, he’d lost a whole damn day. 

Jim opened the refrigerator and found a bag from the coffee shop downstairs. He opened it and saw the selection of pastries from Spock’s. He grabbed a chocolate donut and took a bite. It was cold and stale, but the chocolate tasted sweet. As soon as he ate it, he was instantly ravenous. He stood at the refrigerator, shoving pastries into his mouth until they were gone. 

He wrinkled up the empty bag and let out a loud burp. He tossed the bag into the garbage bin and drank a glass of water. 

When the knock came ten minutes later, Jim was ready. He’d made the bed, thrown his towel in the fresher, and made things nice enough for an Admiral.

He opened the door and smiled at Chris. “Hey, come on in.”

“How ya doin’, Jim? McCoy told me you got pretty well oiled the other night.” He held up two coffees. “Thought this might help.”

“Oh, nice. Yeah. Thanks.” He took the coffee and motioned for Chris to sit.

Jim sat across from him on one of the matching stuffed chairs and put his feet on the coffee table. He blew across his coffee and waited for Chris, who he figured had something to say.

“Spock came to see me, Jim.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, feeling himself pretend everything was all right between them.

“He’s pretty perceptive for a guy who’s only been around humans for a couple of years.”

“His mother’s human,” Jim quipped and Chris glared at him. “Sorry.”

“He’s the one that recommended you for the job with United Veterans. Wasn’t my idea. I know how pissed you’ve been at Starfleet. I tried to explain it to Spock, but hell, I’m not sure I really understand it myself. I mean, your mom and dad. They loved it, Jim. Ate, breathed, and slept Starfleet. Talked about their dreams for you, how you’d do better than either of them put together. I don’t get it.”

A minute passed and Jim let the words soak in, trying to formulate some kind of answer that made sense. Jim licked his lips before he spoke. “Maybe if everything woulda gone like they hoped, I’d be captain of the Enterprise or something. I don’t know. But it didn’t work out that way. Chris, everything fell apart when mom died. Dad…he was like a ghost. I needed him to be around and he just dragged me from starbase to starbase, like he had a Rigaldi in his pocket. After a while, it just pissed me off. He never talked about her. No holos, nothing. After the funeral, it was like he just stopped caring.” Jim took a big sip of his coffee and winced as it burned his tongue.

“I don’t know, kid. Maybe he did. Your mother, she was pretty amazing. If George hadn’t married her, I would’ve tried. Great, brave, strong woman, your mother. Didn’t deserve what happened to her. But she loved you and your father and she’d be pissed as hell if she knew how you two got divided.”

Jim stared at a fleck of black floating around in his coffee. “Can’t do anything about it now. I said some horrible shit, Chris. Dad, he let me have it and that was it. I was fucking angry as hell, and when Frank hit me, I hit him back. For two years, I had more bruises than sense, and I liked it. Fucked around with drugs and booze and made a mess out of whatever common sense I ever had.” Jim pointed at Chris. “And it wasn’t much, let me tell you.

“But then it just burned itself out and I was flopping at random places all over the East Coast, as far from Starfleet as I could get. I ended up in New York and thought I could disappear. You can do that there, and by the time I knew which way was up, Dad was already dead. Took them two years to find me. By then I had my act together, wanted to help some of the people who were worse off. Make up for being a shit. Thought maybe mom woulda been proud of me. I don’t know.” Jim rubbed at his face and let out a groan. 

He continued, “Coming back here, thinking about working for Starfleet. And those pictures, Chris. Goddamn, why’d you send those?”

“Because there were things in the works, Jim. Thought maybe you were ready to come full circle. Did I get it wrong?” Chris sipped his own coffee and waited for him to answer.

“I don’t know. Honestly. I have no idea if I can take being back, hearing about them, how great they were. I miss ‘em, you know? When I let myself.” Jim rubbed his finger over and over a rough spot on the side of the paper cup. 

“Yeah, kid. I know. I miss them, too.” Chris leaned forward and put his coffee on the table. “Take some time, Jim. Figure out what you want to do and I’ll keep the position open for a while. If you don’t want it, that’ll be it. No more questions and no more recruitment speeches.” Chris cracked a smile. “But if you decide to come back, you can do great things, Jim. Make your own way, out of your parents’ shadows.”

Chris stood and pulled at the hem of his jacket. “You want me to take those pictures back?” 

Jim stood, too, and set his coffee down. “No, I’ll keep them. I think I need them now.”

“All right, kid. I’ll wait to hear from you. Take it easy, okay?” Chris moved towards him and the two men embraced. Jim held on tight for a long minute, tears stinging his eyes. Someone in this universe was looking out for him.

“Thanks, man. Thanks.” Jim stepped back and looked away as Chris grabbed his coffee and went to the door.

“And Jim, talk to Spock. You don’t make sense to us humans. I can’t imagine he has any idea what the hell’s going on with you.”

Jim huffed a laugh and sniffed. “Yeah, I will.” He felt a heavy weight in his chest at the thought.

Behind him, the door clicked quietly closed.

~*~

Jim stood at the entrance of the Starfleet Memorial and looked out over the Bay. For a long time, he watched the ships and boats move under the Golden Gate Bridge, wondering at their cargo and thinking about the long history of ships he knew preceded the current Starfleet armada. Behind him, inside the high marble walls, were the names of Starfleet members who had been killed in action.

For now, Jim waited, leaning against one of the tall wrought iron lamps that led to the great iron doors of the memorial. Inside his jacket, his restless fingers toyed with frayed threads and loose change. He wasn’t ready to go in yet.

A couple of hours had passed since Chris left, and they hadn’t been good ones. Jim had forced himself to face the photos of his parents, to remember the good and the bad, and he tried to deal with some of the pain he’d been too afraid to face. Even now, the images flickered in his brain, interspersed with his own memories of his mother and father, the three of them together as a family. It was those memories he’d pushed away the hardest, the ones where everyone was laughing and hugging and he was the luckiest kid in the fucking universe. 

He couldn’t stop the tears when he thought about it. The ache felt like it was ripping out his heart. He’d already tried running, making a new life, but the truth was that he missed them more than he would ever say. He regretted how things went with his dad, how neither of them would budge enough to keep mom alive between them. It was like she died over and over again in his head and it never got better. 

Across the Bay, the fog that was settling over Starfleet headquarters, and Jim wondered if he could stand to see it every day, knowing what it had taken from him. To see the men and women who wanted the thing he hated so much. It seemed wrong somehow, suffocating like it had always been. Their love for Starfleet, their passion for exploration and adventure. That had died for him a long time ago. He didn’t know if what he had to offer would be enough. If he could ever be okay back in that life. He just didn’t know.

With a loud sniff, he wiped his eyes and took a deep breath, willing the ache to fade, but knowing there were harder things to come. He turned and stared at the metal doors and took another breath.

“Jim,” he heard from behind him and he turned, heart in his throat.

“Spock. You came.” It had been so long since Jim texted him that he wasn’t sure Spock was coming.

“I received your message only fourteen minutes ago,” Spock said, the wind from the Bay rustling his bangs. “I was with a patient.”

“I am so glad you’re here,” Jim said and took a few steps towards him. “Things have been pretty messed up and I didn’t know if you’d come.”

“I wished to see you sooner, Jim, but Doctor McCoy advised me to allow you to make initial contact. I trusted his opinion.”

“No. Yeah. He was right. I had a lot of stuff to work out.” Jim looked past Spock and out over the Bay again as a large ship passed between the towers of the bridge. 

“I do not understand why you left when I told you about my involvement in the United Veterans Program.”

“I…it’s hard to explain. I had a lot more baggage than I thought about Starfleet. The idea that you were involved made it seem like I had no choice, that to be with you, I had to be there.” Jim shrugged. “I guess I couldn’t handle it.” Jim closed the gap between them and laid his hand on Spock’s chest. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“It does not matter, Jim.” Spock’s dark eyes searched his. “You are not well.”

“No, not really, Spock. Touch me, because I can’t really put it into words.” Jim felt his eyes stinging again and Spock put a hand against his cheek. 

After a moment, Spock spoke softly, “Ashayam,” and pulled Jim into his arms. “I grieve with thee.” 

Jim sunk into Spock’s embrace, holding onto him tighter than he had to Chris. Here was someone who could feel what he felt, could know what he couldn’t say, accepted all the fucked up and conflicted emotions he had inside his head. Jim felt himself shake against Spock’s chest and the Vulcan held him tighter. They stood for a long time, Spock ramrod straight and unwavering as Jim clung to him, using him for support like the bridge used the towers. He needed him.

Finally, Jim stepped back and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Will you come inside with me, Spock? I can’t go in alone.” 

“You are not alone, Jim. I am here.” 

Jim gave him a watery smile and a soft kiss. He threaded their fingers together and walked with him toward the heavy doors. 

It was time to say goodbye.


End file.
